At My Most Beautiful
by coloursflyaway
Summary: Based on a prompt on Tumblr: Steve gets Bucky lingerie and fucks him.


They're white and Steve has never touched them, but he just knows how the lace would feel; it'd be crisp and yet soft enough it would feel good against his skin, would feel good against Bucky's skin.  
There is a thin, light blue border sewn to each piece, and it's the same blue Bucky's eyes have in the morning, when the sunlight is making them glow. It makes Steve think of summer skies and forget me nots and how he will never ever forget the first time Bucky kissed him.

There is a baby doll, a pair of panties and a garter belt; they're perfect, and Steve just knows that Bucky needs to have them, no matter what.  
Still, the grocer he helps out doesn't pay much, and Steve has never been too good at asking for favours, so he does the next best thing: He sells his skills.

Ever since he was a small boy, he's always been good at drawing, painting, and although the times are bad and so many people are just trying to scrape by, there are always lovers who need to have each other's pictures taken, mothers who don't want to forget how their son or daughter looks when still so innocent.  
So Steve draws them and sells them much cheaper than a photograph taken would cost - it feels like giving away a piece of his soul every time, but it's okay, because he knows just how Bucky will smile unwrapping his present.

And yet, when it's the week of Bucky's birthday, and Steve finally has the courage to walk into the shop he has been walking past every day the past months, he doesn't have enough money to buy the whole set. In fact, he hardly has enough money to buy a single piece, and the realisation almost makes tears spring to his eyes; there is nothing more he could have done, Steve knows that, and yet it feels like he hasn't done enough.  
Because Bucky would deserve so much better.

In the end, he leaves with only the smallest bag under his arm, soft white lace and blue frills and silky nylon all wrapped into paper so it won't stain. It's better than nothing, Steve tells himself, and hopes that Bucky will think so too - he'll get the other the rest of the set for Christmas, for Easter, for whatever.  
Until he can see Bucky completely clad in white and blue, looking beautiful and gentle and innocent.

The hardest thing is not giving Bucky what he has bought immediately, because it's still three days to go, and Steve can hardly wait, he does so still, because there is no way he could afford yet another present, and because not giving Bucky anything on his birthday is unthinkable.

On his birthday, Bucky is working on the docks, like he is every day, even if Steve has tried to persuade him with kisses and sweet words and touches to stay at home - the fact that Bucky is right when he says that they need the money for food and clothes and that Steve gets sick so easily in the winter, doesn't change that Steve still wishes that Bucky had stayed with him.  
He won't argue with the other on his birthday, though, so Steve just kisses Bucky goodbye in the morning, calling him birthday boy, and then leaves for work himself. It's just a few hours, and since Bucky isn't home, Steve figures it won't matter, and his boss is kind enough to let him take a few groceries home for cheap when Steve tells him his brother's birthday.

It's no lie, not really, because just like Bucky is his friend and his lover, he's also as close to a brother he has ever had.  
So, for the first time in what feels like forever, there is meat in the stew Steve cooks when he gets home, not much, just a few pieces of chicken. Still, Bucky will appreciate it, even if it's just a bit, Steve is certain of that.  
At first, he wants to leave the present he has gotten Bucky just like it is, wrapped in crisp white paper, but it doesn't look quite right, so Steve takes the pieces out of the bag again, spreads them out on the bed.

Their blankets have been patched a hundred times, and yet, the lace looks elegant and innocent against it. Steve can't help but run his fingers over it gently, almost lovingly, knowing that he will do this at least a hundred more times over the next decades.

Bucky comes home, and he looks tired, but is all smiles, pressing Steve up against the wall next to the door, kissing him deeply, sweetly, and only pulling away once he has kissed Steve breathless and mindless. The smile is still on his lips, and Steve can't help but smile back, taking Bucky's hand in his and resisting the temptation to tell Bucky to look what surprise he has left him in the bedroom (they call it the bedroom, even if it's just a corner of the room separated by an old sheet hanging from the ceiling)  
"C'mon, birthday boy", he says instead and pulls Bucky closer to the table, which he has tried to set up as nicely as possible, even stealing a few flowers from a nearby park.  
Bucky seems to appreciate it, kissing him square on the lips again, taking a moment to pepper kisses on Steve's cheeks and jaw and nose, before he pulls back, the expression in his eyes changed.  
"Is that chicken?"

They have dinner and Bucky talks with his mouth still full and laughs and calls Steve a doll for doing all this, _really, Stevie, you shouldn't have_.  
Steve tells him that he should have, and Bucky chuckles, happy and content and all Steve ever wanted, but at the same time, something happens which Steve never would have thought possible. He starts to doubt.

Of course they have talked about it, a few times even, about Bucky being dressed in lace and frills and pretty things, but up until now, they have never had the money to get even one small little pair of panties. And what if this is one of the things which sound great in theory but would only freak Bucky out in real life?  
But it's too late now, there is no way to undo this now, especially when Bucky polishes off his plate with a smile and gets up.  
"I'm just gonna wash up and get me something less dirty to wear, okay?", Bucky says with a voice that promises that the other doesn't intent to leave the new things on for long, and a wink in Steve's direction. Who just sits there and watches Bucky disappear behind the make-shift curtain.

For a few moments, there are no sounds, and Steve is holding his breath – surely Bucky must have seen the lingerie spread out on the bed already, but there is no reaction, no sound to indicate that the other is even moving… until Steve hears the rustling of fabric, the snap of Bucky's suspenders.  
His heart is beating so loud that he is sure that Bucky can hear it even on the other side of the room.

There is most rustling and rummaging and the splashing of water – Bucky is cleaning up, Steve can see the faint silhouette of the other's body against the sheet – and then Bucky is stepping out into Steve's sight.

He's not just beautiful, he's breath-taking, lips and cheeks both flushed pink and in stark contrast to Bucky's skin, dark eyelashes fluttering over blue, blue eyes. His chest is naked, because Bucky is only wearing what Steve has bought him, and it's impossible for Steve not to let his eyes linger on his lover's skin, where it's still perfect, unmarked by the heavy work Bucky has to do all day.  
They don't stay there for long, though, instead slide down Bucky's chest until they find that thin trail of dark hair leading down, down, down…  
…until it disappears beneath thin, white lace, the garter belt Steve has picked out hugging Bucky's hips, stretching over sharp bones and strong thighs, each strap fixed onto the top of the nylon stockings covering his legs.

Steve couldn't afford the panties which should go along with the garter belt so there is nothing to cover Bucky's cock, which is half-hard already, and Steve's mouth goes dry at the sight, his own cock twitching in his pants.  
Bucky is just standing there, hands clenching and unclenching, and suddenly Steve realises that Bucky must be nervous too.

"You look stunning", Steve whispers softly, almost as if he was afraid of ruining this moment, and sees how Bucky's body unwinds, every tightly wound muscle relaxing. Somehow, it makes Bucky look even better, and Steve adds, "You're perfect."  
Technically, it's a lie, because Bucky is all but perfect – he gets drunk in bars when he can, flirts too easily and always forgets to do his own laundry – but then again… then again, Bucky is perfect _for him_. And that is what matters.  
There is no answer for what seems to be forever, but then Bucky smiles at him a bit crookedly, looking relieved nonetheless. "Thanks, Stevie. Am I fulfilling your expectations?"

Bucky is grinning, twirling, and it's good to see the other as confident and flirty as he should be, so Steve smiles back, even if his eyes are fixed on the garter belt, the way Bucky's muscles move under the thin fabric of the stockings.  
The other doesn't look like a girl, not at all, but he looks softer, a bit more graceful; he's still Bucky, but not the man who comes home smelling like cheap whiskey and cigarettes. This version of Bucky belongs only to him, and Steve loves that.

"More than just fulfilling them, Buck. Never thought you'd look so good in them."  
It's the truth, because Steve never thought anyone could ever look this good, but he still has to laugh when Bucky pouts, tries to look offended. "What I mean is that I couldn't have imagined something as beautiful as you in my tiny little brain, okay?", Steve clarifies and watches Bucky drop the act, smiling back at him.  
He doesn't reply for a few moments, just watches Steve, his eyes gentle and bright blue.  
"Thank you", Bucky finally says, and his voice is soft, genuine. "They're beautiful. Just like I imagined."

Maybe there is a hint of a blush on Bucky's cheeks, maybe there isn't, but really, it doesn't matter, because no matter how beautiful the other looks, Steve needs to kiss him more than anything else in this world. So he crosses the room until he's standing in front of Bucky, who bites his lips, stands still, and lets Steve kiss him.  
It's a soft, sweet kiss, but only for a few moments, then Bucky wraps his arms around Steve's neck and pulls him closer, bare chest pressed against Steve. The kiss deepens, gets more passionate, and Steve can't stop himself, he has to touch Bucky, slide his palms up the other's chest.

"How did I ever get this lucky?", Steve whispers between one kiss and the next, and Bucky chuckles against his lips a moment later.  
"There are people who wouldn't call this lucky", his lover answers, and Steve knows his tone of voice – it's the one Bucky always uses when something reminds him of how wrong society thinks they are, but Steve won't have any of this. Not today.  
"Then they're all idiots", Steve replies, kisses Bucky once more. "Because there's no way I could ever be happy with anyone but you."

It might be cheesy, but by now, Bucky surely has learnt how to live with that side of him, and he just grins against Steve's lips, but doesn't pull away.  
"You're a horrible, horrible sap."  
Steve doesn't even try to disagree, just steps back, keeping his hands on Bucky's chest. "You love it, don't even try to deny it."  
Although Steve is half a metre away, everything Bucky has to do is to bend down to peck Steve's lips, biting them a little. "Yeah, you're right."

Bucky pulls back again, a sunny smile on his pink lips and Steve is so in love with him he can taste it on every breath he takes; for a few moments, he can't do anything but stare.  
"Can I take you to bed?", he asks when he has found his voice again, and sounds a little breathless even to his own ears; then again, who could blame him, when Bucky is standing in front of him, looking even more beautiful than usually, even more like he's Steve's. They're still touching, Steve's hands firmly on Bucky's naked chest, and even that is making him feel warm all over, his palms tingling and his lips feeling dry even when he licks them.  
"Do you really think you have to ask?", Bucky replies with another question, and there's a teasing smile on his face and in his voice, but Steve doesn't mind it. This is how they are, how they always have been, no matter at one point in their relationship, no matter in which state of undress.

So Steve answers by not asking anymore, just kisses Bucky again, pushes him back and takes a step forward for every one Bucky takes back, until they have reached the bed, can fall down on it. Steve lands on top of the other, which is just perfect, because like that, Steve can just kiss him again, first on his pink, swollen lips, then nipping at his jaw, trailing a line of kisses down Bucky's neck.  
Bucky arches up into the touch, and Steve knows exactly why – the other has always been so sensitive there and Steve has always loved to take advantage of that fact.

There are soft, quiet sounds falling from Bucky's lips before Steve has even reached his chest, a hand reaching out to thread long fingers into his hair as Steve lets his lips travel further, placing a quick kiss on one of Bucky's nipples before he moves on, trailing his lips over the other's chest and stomach, sometimes leaving kisses, sometimes not. Bucky is shivering underneath him, and Steve wonders for a moment if the other feels vulnerable like this.

Steve takes his time, takes forever and ever, until he lets himself reach the garter belt. It's as soft as he knew it was going to be, feels crisp and new against his lips when Steve kisses the skin just above the hem.  
He almost pushes himself up, so he can take another look at Bucky, but the other is breathing heavily, every gasp sounding a little like a plea, and Steve can't bring himself to.  
Instead, he shifts until he can lick his palm, then wraps his fingers around Bucky's hard cock, giving it one, slow stroke and watching Bucky arch up into his touch.  
After years and years of doing this, Steve knows exactly what to do to make Bucky feel good, and he uses the knowledge without even thinking about it, lowering himself down until he can suck the head into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it and tasting skin and sweat and precome.

He must be doing it right, because Bucky moans quietly, grips Steve's hair harder, but doesn't thrust up into his mouth, even if Steve knows he must want to. So he tries to make up for it, sucks harder and when he strokes down the next time, he follows his hand with his mouth, taking in more and more of Bucky's cock.  
It's easy to build up a rhythm, sucking hard every time there is only the head of Bucky's cock in his mouth and pressing his tongue against that sensitive spot just behind it, tracing the thick vein on the underside every time he sinks down and covering the rest of the shaft with his hand.  
Bucky is breathing hard, every exhale sounding a little more desperate, a bit more broken, and Steve can't help but to suck a little harder, to give Bucky more.

Steve lets his other hand slip between Bucky's legs, cupping his balls and starting to massage them while he continues bobbing his head, sucking even harder for a few moments before he pulls off with a lewd, wet sound, keeping his hand around Bucky's cock, still stroking.  
Like this, Steve can look up at Bucky, who isn't looking back, because his eyes are screwed shut, his lips parted. It's the first time that Steve realises that this affects Bucky just as much as him.

Everything inside Steve wants to make Bucky come, to watch him arch off the mattress and just lose himself in pleasure, to taste him and know that it was him who did this, but he can't, not now, not when he wants them to come together.  
So he forces himself to pull away, even if it's hard, even if Bucky whines in the back of his throat, eyes snapping open and looking directly at Steve, pleading.  
"Just one second, just turn around, okay? Can you do that for me?", Steve asks quickly, his voice still soft, still breathless when he starts moving, searching for the small pot of lotion they always keep around.

It takes longer than the second he has promised Bucky, but Steve finds it in the end, stuffed between the cold wall and the mattress; when he looks back at the other, Bucky has turned around, has gotten on his hands and knees.  
The straps of his garter belt are stretched over his thighs, still holding up the stockings, and although the position should be a vulnerable, submissive one, it doesn't look like it at all. Bucky looks strong, muscles rippling under tanned skin whenever he shifts, hair mussed and hanging into his face; he looks beautiful, almost ethereal in the soft light of the moon shining through the window.  
Steve hesitates for a moment before he even dares to touch Bucky, just sliding a hand over the arch of the other's back, following Bucky's spine.

"Have I told you I love you today?", Steve asks and gets a soft chuckle instead of a response at first, the sounds almost visible in the way Bucky moves. He can't help but smile, pulling away his hand so he can take off his own clothes, wanting to fling them aside but forcing himself to put them down carefully.  
"You have", Bucky replies, when Steve has almost forgotten about his question before. "In the morning. First thing out of your mouth."  
Bucky is right, and this time, Steve is the one who laughs softly, returns to Bucky and settles down between the other's legs, leaning down to press his lips against soft skin. He expects Bucky to tell him to hurry, or to just stay silent, but the other continues to speak anyway.  
"But do you know that you don't have to say it?"

It makes Steve frown a little – he likes saying it, telling Bucky he loves him over and over again, because he kept those words inside him for so long, before finding out that Bucky felt the same – but he doesn't answer, doesn't know what to say.  
"I know, that's what I mean. I know." Bucky's voice sounds warm, like the salted caramel he enjoys so much, like summer, and after a second, it makes Steve feel warm too, a fire kindles inside him.  
"I love you", he says, and means it.

If he could, he would make love to Bucky the way the other deserves, slow and taking up all the night, leaving both of them pleasantly sore and sated, but Bucky has to work tomorrow, has to get up early and carry heavy things around. But there are a hundred ways to do everything and maybe even more to do this, so Steve settles for something easier, but something he knows will make Bucky moan just as well.

He quickly slicks up his cock, using too much lotion, which means that he'll have to wash the sheets tomorrow, but Steve can't bring himself to care, not right now.  
"Put your legs together", he half-orders with a soft voice; Bucky hisses when he realises what this means, and Steve isn't sure if he sounds excited or disappointed. "We'll do it properly next time, I promise, but-"  
Bucky cuts him off, closing his legs just like Steve has told him, and saying, "God, Steve, just shut up."

This time, it's easy to recognise his tone of voice – he's impatient and that is a mood Steve knows too well on the other.  
Chuckling, Steve presses another kiss to the other's back, before he shifts, moves closer until he can press the head of his cock against the back of Bucky's legs, in the sweet, warm crease between them. He slides in easily, because they have done this so often, and Bucky knows just how tight to press his thighs together, just how angle his hips so Steve's cock drags over his balls.  
It's nothing compared to the velvety heat around him when he's inside his lover, and yet the friction, the steady pressure is making Steve moan, his eyes slipping shut for a few moments.

Bucky is making no sounds, but that's alright – the other has never been loud in bed, gets quieter the better he feels, and although Steve sometimes mourns the fact, he likes it too, because it's something only he knows. It's only him who can read Bucky's face when the other is on the verge of coming, him who pushes him over that edge every time.

It's hard to do anything but start thrusting into that tight space between Bucky's thighs, feeling the whisper of silky nylons against his sensitive skin, but Steve manages, reaches around to wrap his fingers around Bucky's hard cock, leaning forward until he is almost covering Bucky with his too-thin, too-weak body.  
But it's good like this, because he can pepper kisses all over the other's back, his lips trailing over flushed skin between them.

"I love you", Steve whispers against Bucky's back, repeats the three words again and again while he pulls back slightly so he can thrust back between Bucky's thighs, letting his lover fuck into his fist. He does it again, a little harder this time, doing his best to stroke Bucky in time with his thrusts.  
His own cock is so hard that even the smallest, most insignificant motion is making Steve gasp, gripping Bucky's hip so hard he's sure he'll be able to see the bruises the next morning.

They find a rhythm together, like they always have, always will, Steve thrusting between Bucky's legs, slicking them up with his precome and lotion, the hems of Bucky's stockings sometimes dragging over his sensitive skin, making him moan loud and low.  
Bucky underneath him is quiet, except for his breath, which comes in small huffs, but he's pushing back against Steve, moving with him.  
Pleasure is coursing through him, tingling up and down his spine and making Steve's head spin, his mind slowly, but surely losing control over his body, letting his thrusts become sloppier, more erratic.

Steve wishes he could draw this out for hours, but he's been too aroused for too long, and this feels too good to hold back for much longer, so it only takes a few more minutes until he can feel liquid heat pooling in his stomach, sparks of pleasure turning into a wave that nearly washes Steve away.  
He comes with a moan of Bucky's name, his hips snapping forward uncontrollably as he rides his orgasm out between the other's thighs, coating the thin fabric of the stockings with come.  
They're most likely ruined, but Steve can't bring himself to care, not now, when Bucky is warm and solid underneath him, letting him lazily thrust between his thighs until he's milked dry.

His head is swimming, clouded with pleasure, but Bucky is still hard, and Steve has to fix that.  
Gently, he coaxes Bucky onto his back, unaware of the sounds escaping him when he looks into his lover's face.  
Bucky's eyes are unfocussed and dark, his pupils blown so wide that Steve can't make out the bright blue around them, his lips bitten red and swollen, his cheeks are flushed and hot to the touch when Steve leans down to kiss Bucky softly, wrapping his hand around the other's cock again.  
"Steve…"  
Bucky's voice sounds as ruined and hoarse as Steve knew it would, and he has to kiss Bucky once more, just as gently as before.  
"I've got you, Buck, I've got you", he mutters, still against Bucky's lips as he starts stroking Bucky's cock, not bothering with going slow anymore.

Steve keeps kissing Bucky, lets the other lose control underneath him, letting Bucky snap his hips upwards, adding a twist of his wrist with every upstroke until Bucky is gasping into his mouth, not even kissing back anymore.  
He comes only a few moments later, coating Steve's hand with slick come, and fucking up into his fist, riding out his orgasm. There are still no moans, but Steve kisses the gasps and heavy breaths off Bucky's lips.

He continues kissing Bucky even when the other slumps back on the bed, kisses him until Bucky finally responds, sliding his lips against Steve's lazily, lovingly.  
There is no way Steve would hurry this now, so he just continues kissing Bucky for a little longer, until they're both breathless.  
Of course, Steve knows that he should get up and fetch a wet towel, something to clean them up a little, but he just can't bring himself to, so he does the next best thing – sucks his fingers into his mouth and cleans away Bucky's come with his lips and tongue. It's a taste he knows so well by now, salty and slightly bitter, and although Bucky has seen him do this often, the other still watches intently.

"You gonna lick that away too?", he asks Steve, gesturing towards his crotch, raising an eyebrow.  
"Nah. Too much Vaseline for my taste", Steve replies – he would like it, cleaning Bucky up with his tongue, because it always feels so much more intimate, but he knows just how much grease has to be mixed with his come between Bucky's thighs. Instead, he sits up and grabs the shirt he has abandoned at the end of the mattress before, wipes away the mess on Bucky's thighs as carefully as he can.  
"Should I…you know, take them off?", he asks as soon as he is finished, running a hand over Bucky's legs, which are still covered in silky nylon. "Wouldn't want you to rip them…"

His hands find the clasps of the garter belt before Bucky has answered, but the other nods anyway, asks, "Does that mean you want to do this more often?"  
Bucky doesn't sound tentative, but he sounds hopeful, and Steve looks up to smile at him, even while his fingers search for the other clasp, undoing it as well.  
"Sure. As often as you want."  
Steve starts sliding down the first stocking, slowly, and carefully so he won't accidentally tear the thin fabric, kisses Bucky's knee once he has removed it completely.  
"You know, there were matching panties too. And one of those sweet little dresses", Steve adds, putting the stocking aside and starting to remove the other one. He can still see the rest of the set in his mind, knows just how good Bucky would look in the other pieces as well.

"There was more?", Bucky asks, pushing himself up on his elbows, tiredness momentarily forgotten. There is a glint in his eyes, curious and a little excited, and Steve can't help but grin, sliding the second stocking down Bucky's leg and putting it aside next to the other.  
"Yupp. Told the lady who owns the shop that I'd get it later, if my wife liked the garter belt."  
Something in Bucky's eyes changes, gets brighter and a little fierce; when he speaks, his voice is slightly breathless.  
"Wife, huh?"

He could tell Bucky that well, he couldn't tell the nice old lady that he needed the garter belt for his male lover, but Bucky doesn't sound like he was interested in that kind of explanation at all. So Steve doesn't.  
With the stockings put aside, he returns to his place at Bucky's side, laying down and taking the other's hand in his, intertwining their fingers.  
"Yeah?", he answers instead, the words coming out as more of a question that Steve meant them to. But Bucky doesn't seem to mind, because he tightens his grip around Steve's fingers, turns a little until he can kiss him for what feels like the thousandth time this night.  
"Could've at least gotten down to one knee, you know?", Bucky mutters against Steve's lips once he has pulled back enough, smiling softly.

Steve's heart is fluttering in his chest; it's silly, because this will change nothing, can't change anything, but it feels important nonetheless.  
"I'll make up for that, promise", he answers, and he's sure that he sounds just as breathless as Bucky did before. "I'll just have to get you a ring first."


End file.
